Radiant Darkness
by SciFiRN
Summary: Poetry fic. Set after Season 3 finale. Dean's thoughts, my poetry...who knows maybe it's a good combination. Angst/Hurt...very little comfort. Rated T for language.


**_Crazy thing, poetry is. It tends to mean something different each time you read it. This poem is from years ago and when I found it, well this story, more like thoughts, married itself to it. I couldn't get it out of my head, so here it is. This poem will always hold a special place in my thoughts, self discovery and all...anyway if you like it let me know and even if you hate it you can tell me that too. The entire poem is posted at the end._**

* * *

Wild eyes scan the roiling darkness and there is nothing as far as he can see…only the pain as the hooks grab and pull with each tiny movement. His throat is too raw to make any sound and the simple act of taking a breath makes him feel as if he's inhaling glass. He moves, trying to find some small comfort for his broken body, but it is impossible and he cries. No tears; he's not even given the comfort of his own tears.

And he knows, knows that this is the good part. He can endure the pain; he's done it before, year after year, injury after injury. That's not what scares him, what forces this dry, silent weeping from him. It's what comes after the calm, the radiant darkness that moves in and occupies his mind. His eyes drift shut as he feels it creep closer, his body quaking with fearful anticipation.

_The sound of his voice shutters the sun; _

_Time for the world to turn black_.

He hears it call his name, slithering through and into his almost broken mind…."Deeaaann…" it calls seductively, "Deeaann…you're mine…forever…."

_I fight the darkness, run, but there is no escape. _

_It follows me as if it were my own shadow _

Body tense, cold sweat chilling him in the endless heat, tongue so swollen he can't swallow, he fights. Fights the only way he can. Every memory of Sam, his mother, his father…every lover and every love, every hunt, every life he took, every life he saved, every weapon, every part he ever replaced on his car. Every lyric of every song…he remembered them all. A countless catalogue of his life, a life reduced to endless, swirling thoughts, but it doesn't matter.

_Quickly shifting as I move,_

_It's becoming more a part of me. _

The darkness clings, binds itself to him, twists his memories for its own purposes, "Your brother alone…because of you…father dead…because of you…so many gone, you couldn't help, too weak, too weak, too pathetic…" The voice taunts him, tearing memories in pieces and altering them, they become something else entirely. Replayed for him from other's perspectives; he hears his brother's thoughts, his anger…jealousy, he watches shame and disappoint cloud his father's eyes, sees the spark of life leave his mother's. Cold now and empty; hollow.

_Slowly drowning out my soul, _

_The small phantom of alarm screaming through my thoughts. _

He clings to the hope that there is hope. Love conquering all, faith…feels himself sinking under, he reaches for anything while his mind howls in protest…Sam loves him, his father was proud, this is wrong, something is wrong. Pain and fear, now his only companions, even his sobbing withers into nothingness. Dark now and numb; dead.

_I am left cold and alone, wanting yet wary;_

_Buried in dread and panic._

He feels it rising, the panic. He hates it, makes him feel weak…but he knows that already. The voice tells him, "too weak, too weak…too pathetic and worthless…" He needs it and hates it. The voice calls to him and in a way it soothes him and for that he's scared. Terror like he's never known bubbles up from deep in side him and he screams, his throat and tongue too devastated to produce even the smallest sound. He hears others though, others like him, screaming endlessly and he hears the laughter that surrounds them in the infinite darkness. Knows it's there, watching, waiting, biding its time and that comforts him too; the voice and its waiting. He knows, somewhere inside a part of him still knows that means something, but he's forgotten what.

_Dragging myself, not away, but toward. _

_I am struggling to discern _

_If I really crave the dark, the pain, and the loss._

His mind floats, accepting now. He knows he deserves it, the never-ending insults, the incessant, torturous trips through his twisted memories. He failed; failed to be there for his father, failed to save his brother…so many others dead and hurt. The chains tighten and his body bows, agony as white hot lightening shoots through his head. He smiles, his eyes black and he laughs, part of him knowing he can't…it's wrong but he laughs anyway and he hears it, hears the voice's laughter coming from is throat. Lost now, and consumed; evil.

_With it comes the ecstasy of my soul stripped bare, _

_The pleasure and the power_.

The power; he moves against the chains breaking them easily. The pleasure; he feels warm and full, his thirst quenched, his lust sated. Every memory that was his, now belongs to the voice and the voice is him. One and the same, "reunited and damn baby does it feel so good," the voice sings from his throat. He swallows and screams, the voice rejoicing even as he falters. A flicker, a thought, his mother's touch…pain in his shoulder…Sammy's smile…another pain, it tears him apart…the voice screams from somewhere both internal and external, "Noo, you are mine…FOREVER mine…mine…too weak…too pathetic. YOU. ARE. MINE!" The Impala…pain…Cassie, he's being torn to pieces, but his thoughts are his and he cries his tearless cry and he's thankful for it. His body shakes with the sobs and he hears his brother's words, "I'll save you."

_Struggling, I never find my answer,_

_And I never truly know._

_Slowly now, the sun returns, released from its lash. _

_It shines, warms; my world is full of color again._

He welcomes the pain, it means he's still human, still alive. It means he has hope, but he hears the voice whisper and laugh, hears it curse and gnash its teeth. He shifts and pulls on the chains, the pain grounds him…his mind revels in his small victory. Inside he flips the voice off, "Fuck you, you sonovabitch. I win again. Dean, fucking Winchester is no ones bitch!" He watches the darkness warily…he knows it's a fragile victory, but each time he wins, he remembers, he knows…he hopes.

_Til his voice is heard once more_.

* * *

**Radiant Darkness**

The sound of his voice shutters the sun;

Time for the world to turn black.

I fight the darkness, run, but there is no escape.

It follows me as if it were my own shadow

Quickly shifting as I move,

It's becoming more a part of me.

Slowly drowning out my soul,

The small phantom of alarm screaming through my thoughts.

I am left cold and alone, wanting yet wary;

Buried in dread and panic.

Dragging myself, not away, but toward.

I am struggling to discern

If I really crave the dark, the pain, and the loss.

With it comes the ecstasy of my soul stripped bare,

The pleasure and the power.

Struggling, I never find my answer,

And I never truly know.

Slowly now, the sun returns, released from its lash.

It shines, warms; my world is full of color again.

Til his voice is heard once more.


End file.
